Summary: Sarah makes a New Year's resolution and is determined to see it
through. Goblin King and alcohol
involved.

Disclaimer: Sarah, Jareth, Labyrinth—not mine.

A Year of Possibilities

It was nearly four in the morning on New Year's Day when Sarah
Williams finally stumbled through the doorway of her bedroom, a very inebriated
grin on her face. She kicked off her
shoes and dropped her jacket to the floor before flopping down onto her bed. Her gaze was dreamily directed up at the
ceiling, her fingers fiddling idly with the silky material of her shirt.

Ah, a whole new year of possibilities ahead, and she had
so much to be grateful for… her family, her friends, her potential acting
career. There was only one thing
missing. Sarah's grin widened, a
determined glint appearing in her eyes.
With only a little difficulty, she managed to pull herself up into a
sitting position.

Hmm, now, what were the words? She rubbed her chin thoughtfully, eyes focusing with an
effort. Oh yes, "I wish… that the Goblin
King was here… right now!"

Down in the Underground, the man himself was busy booting
one particularly annoying goblin right in the ass when he heard the
request. Annoyance registered briefly
on his face. Bored though he was, he
didn't take kindly to the idea of being ordered about. He retrieved children, when they were wished
away, he didn't make appearances for idle reasons.

Absently, he readjusted his coat, deciding against
adorning one of the long dark cloaks he usually wore during these dealings. Transforming himself into the form of the
snowy white owl, he flew out the nearest window, sparing his goblins his wrath
for at least a short while. Moments
later, he made his dramatic entrance through an apartment window, and found
himself face-to-face with someone he had never expected to see again.

"Jareth! Happy New
Year!" the young brunette declared enthusiastically, blowing her noisemaker in
the Goblin King's face.

"Argh," Jareth replied in irritation, "What is it with you
mortals and your noisemaking devices?"

Sarah giggled and blew the little instrument again. Impatiently, Jareth reached out and snatched
it out of her hands while she made a feeble attempt to stop him. Of course, with her delayed reflexes, by the
time she realized what he was doing, he already had it far out of her reach.

"Hey, give it back," she demanded, half-launching herself
at him.

"Not on your life."
Jareth easily sidestepped the attack, and watched in surprise as Sarah
tumbled from the bed to the floor. But
instead of being embarrassed, she remained on the ground, sending him an
endearing pout.

"C'mon," she pleaded, and her big green eyes seemed to
have increased in size, the eyelashes appearing more prominent than ever
before.

The Goblin King could hardly believe what he was
seeing. Here was the girl who had
defeated him and his labyrinth, the only person to ever do so, calling on him
four years later—on the first day of the new year, no less—and trying to pout
him into giving back her irritating noisemaker. What the hell was going on?

Sarah looked positively scandalized. "Me, drunk?" Then she hiccupped and proceeded to burst into a fit of
giggles. Yep, looked like it.

After a few gasping breaths for recovery, she managed to
haul herself up onto the bed. "Jareth,"
she said suddenly, and he almost started at the sound of his name coming from
her lips.

"Sarah?" he replied, eyes still narrowed.

She patted the spot next to her on the bed. "Sit down."
When he hesitated, eyeing the proffered seat warily, she rolled her
eyes. "C'mon, I won't bite. Not unless that's your thing," she added
with a grin that made the Goblin King lift one fine eyebrow.

Drunk or not, this certainly was an interesting side of
Sarah. Jareth decided to humor her, and
took the seat, choosing to face her with one leg folded under him, the other
dangling off the side. Even in the
ridiculous situation in which he now found himself, there was no reason why he
couldn't retain his trademark air of superiority.

There was a long pause as he waited for her to speak—after
all, she had been the one to call him.
And finally, she did. "So… how
you been?" she inquired casually.

"Oh wonderful," he replied sarcastically, folding his arms
over his chest. "I mean, how could I be
anything but after your little foray into my life, during which time you
managed to leave my labyrinth in ruins?
Just dandy in fact."

Apparently sarcasm was beyond Sarah at this point. "That's nice," she replied, nodding
absently. There was another brief pause
until she sent him a sideways glance, her eyes sparkling mysteriously. "You look good."

"Why, thank you."
Out of habit, he clung to the sarcasm, despite her current inability to
appreciate it.

"Uh, yes…" Jareth replied, unsure how he was supposed to
take that comment. Well, he knew what
it sounded like, but there was no way that Sarah could have meant it
that way. After all, she hated him. She had made that abundantly clear during
her time in the labyrinth, and there was no reason to think her opinion of him
had changed during the past four years.
Why would it have, when they had neither seen nor spoken to each other
since that night?

"I don't think you understand," she said slowly, bringing
her legs up onto the bed and beginning a stealthy crawl across the mattress
toward him. There really wasn't much
distance to cover, and in no time, she was hovering over Jareth, both hands resting
on his chest.

As her lips lowered slowly to his, her long, dark hair
falling like a curtain against the sides of his face, his mind desperately
continued to attempt to explain away her actions. She was not going to kiss him, because that was simply
inconceivable. Sarah did not feel that
way about him. This must be something
else, there must be some other explanation—

"Like, good enough to—"
She never had a chance to finish, either her sentence or her action,
because Jareth's hands came up to brace her face, and his words cut into hers.

"Sarah, what are you doing?"

Twin dark eyebrows rose to meet her hairline. "Really, Jareth, I thought that was rather
obvious." It was the third time he'd
heard her use his name, and he had come to the conclusion that he rather liked
that way she said it. If nothing else,
it was an improvement over "Goblin King."

"Yes, it is. And
that's what I don't understand," he replied quietly, eyes smoldering with
suppressed emotion.

"What's not to understand?" she asked mildly, and it was
really difficult to hold a conversation with her so near, especially when there
was skin-to-skin contact and her gaze was obviously leveled on his mouth. That was when he realized the drawback in holding
her face to keep her from kissing him—it left her hands completely free.

And apparently they were feeling very exploratory.

"Sarah!" Jareth yelped, releasing her and jumping away
from those hands. Unfortunately, he
only ended up further on the bed, staring at her as he rested awkwardly on his
elbows.

Sarah giggled, her eyes fairly dancing with mischief as
she moved towards him, like a drunk but persistent jungle cat stalking its
prey. Jareth swallowed thickly as he
watched her lower herself against him.
With the length of her body pressed against his, suddenly he didn't know
how to react. Actually, there was one
surefire, natural reaction he could think of, but since Sarah appeared drunk
out of her senses, he didn't he didn't think that would be right. He didn't want it like this.

Well, there was one alternative that came to mind, being
the fearful king and all.

"Sarah, get off me," he ordered.

Hmm, it didn't work.
Instead, the insolent girl reached up and pressed down on his chest, the
extra weight forcing his arms to collapse beneath him, and pushing him flat
onto his back. Then her hands began to
explore the expanse of his torso, moving in slow but sure motions until he had
to concentrate merely to keep from shuddering under her ministrations.

"Sarah," he continued momentarily, noting her lack of
obedience, "I fully expect you to cease your actions."

She failed to respond to his words yet again. When his own hands finally came up in
response, he had fully expected them to push her off him. But instead, the treacherous things grasped
her firmly by the waist, enjoying the feel of the curves beneath them, while
his eyes looked searchingly into hers.
"Why are you doing this… now?"

"Huh?" For a
moment Sarah merely looked at him confusion dominating in her face. "Oh," she replied, a simple smile appearing
as the words slowly sank into the haze of alcohol and desire that had overcome
her brain. "Cuz it's on my list."

"Your… what?"

"My list. Here,"
she said, sitting up and straddling his body between her thighs. "I'll show you." She reached into one of the pockets of her tights jeans,
squirming and wriggling a little to grasp whatever she was looking for. The movements were causing Jareth a
considerable amount of discomfort, and it took all of his willpower to keep
from grabbing the girl and tossing her onto the bed beneath him. Finally, she pulled out a crumpled white
sheet of paper, smoothing it out before handing it to him.

"New Year's Resolutions," he read the unsteady scrawl
across the top. "One, take up
jogging. Two, learn to play the
piano. Three, seduce Jareth," an
eyebrow lifted in surprise here, but still he continued without pause. "Four, climb Mt. Kilamanjaro. Five, be nicer to Karen. Six, get a…" he couldn't make out the last
word. "What does this say?" he asked
pointing at the illegible group of lines and circles.

"Lemme see," Sarah demanded, snatching the list away from
him. "Hmm… get a… tattoo." She looked back up at him with a big
grin. "Oh yeah," she said suddenly,
tossing the note back to him, "I already did that. Wanna see?"

Before Jareth could reply, Sarah had pulled herself off
both him and the bed, and dropped her pants.
Well, not dropped them really, but lowered them a few good—very good,
wonderful actually—inches, revealing the soft, smooth skin of her backside,
protected only by the scant material of her panties.

"See it?" she asked, wiggling slightly to emphasize her
point.

Yeah, he saw it.
As much as he tried not to look, tried to keep his gaze diverted from
the creamy, pale expanse of flesh—

"Is that… a leprechaun?"
Jareth had taken the opportunity to pull himself back up into a seated
position and now peered intently at the little figure. Located dead center on her back, the design
ended just where her panties began, the bright green of it shining starkly
against her ivory skin.

"Um, yeah. It's
one of those fake ones you put on with a bit of water… I got it from Toby's
Lucky Charms box. Hey, you try to find
a tattoo parlor open on New Year's Eve," she said defensively, tossing him a
challenging look over her shoulder.
"Anyway, I thought I'd wear this at least until I could get a real
one. A non-leprechaun one," she added
as an afterthought.

"Who put it on?" he asked suspiciously. He knew it wasn't wise to linger on the
topic, for surely there was nothing he could do if he didn't like the
answer. But, it was better than trying
to fend off her not-so-undesired advances.

"I did," she replied proudly, still watching him over her
shoulder. "I'm real flexible."

Well, someone was listening to his prayers, because Sarah
was distracted from the subject as she began turning and stepped forward, for
she'd forgotten to pull her pants back up.
She suddenly stumbled, and she would have had a painful introduction to
the floor, had Jareth not leapt up from the bed to catch her. She dangled momentarily in his hold, both of
them curved forward, heads turned toward the floor. His one arm was around her waist, and the other just below her
breasts, high enough so there was contact.

On second thought, Jareth contemplated, unable to ignore
the sensation of the soft flesh against his arm, maybe it would have been a
better idea to just let her fall.

From her awkward position, Sarah managed to arch against
him, her backside grinding against the entire front of his body. "So does this mean we're gonna have hot
monkey sex now?"

And then Jareth did drop her.

"Oomph," she managed, bracing herself with her hands and
knees. Utterly undiscouraged, she
rolled over and stared up at him with an open expression. "You wanna do it on the floor?"

There was hardly anything that took the Goblin King by
surprise, but this day, and this girl—ahem, woman—before him had managed to
prove the exception.

"Sarah," he told her tightly, jaw clenched with the
effort, "We are not going to have sex—hot and monkey, or otherwise."

"Why not?" Sarah demanded, latching onto her bed and
pulling herself to her feet. "And don't
tell me you're not interested, because if you wanted me to believe that, you
shouldn't have worn those tights, Mr. Goblin King," she said, staring pointedly
at a certain region of his anatomy.

And she managed it all without so much as a blush or any
other indication of embarrassment.
Unfortunately for Jareth, the same could not be said of him. With as much dignity as he could
muster—which, to his credit, was still a fair amount despite circumstances—he
sat down on the bed, casually reaching for a throw pillow and placing it on his
lap.

"Because you're drunk," he replied, calmly,
reasonably. Calm and reason, he
decided, was exactly what he required when dealing with the intoxicated. That, or he could simply toss them into the
Bog of Eternal Stench, but somehow he doubted that would be the appropriate
solution in this case.

"I had a few drinks," she conceded. "But I am not drunk. I do not get drunk. I am sensible. Sensible Sarah—that's me."
Her hands were on her hips, a dignified expression on her face. And she would have carried it off too, if it
hadn't been for the fact that her pants were still unbuttoned, unzipped, and
riding low on her hips. "'Sides, it's
New Year's… party time… everyone has a few to celebrate. Except the designated drivers and nuns. And maybe even the nuns." Then she looked at Jareth curiously. "What about you?"

"What about me?" he replied.

"What were you doing before I called you? Don't tell me you don't celebrate New Year's
Eve."

"I don't," he answered coolly. "This is a mortal holiday, based on mortal calendars. The Underground doesn't function according
to Aboveground rules of time."

"Hmm," she looked thoughtful for a moment as she mulled
over his words. Then she gave an
indifferent shrug and a single, "Whatever," before pulling down her pants in
one swift movement.

Eyes widening, mouth dropping open, he tried to avoid the
siren call of the vision before him.

Don't… look… directly…

Too late. Already
the image of smooth long legs and lacy black panties was forever imprinted in the
Goblin King's mind. His breathing
ragged and his mind working desperately to deny his body's inevitable response,
he was in no shape to resist when Sarah snatched away the protective pillow and
tossed it across the room.

"Now, what were we doing?" she asked, a fake look of
concentration on her face, before her expression lit up with an equally false
look of remembrance. "Oh yeah," she
said suddenly as she crawled into his lap and forced him to the bed. "This."

With her sitting so close, and so exposed, Jareth couldn't
react. He didn't dare try to push her
from him, just in case he should accidentally make contact with that bared
flesh, but compliance was not a choice.
And the situation was only worsened when she abruptly pulled off the
silky blouse, revealing the matching black bra underneath.

Damn these mortals and their Victoria's Secret! There was only so much temptation that even
a Goblin King could be expected to endure.

"Sarah, why are you doing this?" he asked again, because
she had never really given him an answer the first time.

"It's. On. My.
List," she said, punctuating each word by undoing a button on his
flowing white poet's shirt.

The same response as before, and though it hardly
explained a thing, Jareth decided to take a different approach. "Sarah," he interrupted, hands coming up to
grasp hers before she could remove the now unfastened shirt that kept him from
her eyes. "The fact that it's on your
list doesn't necessarily mean that you should be doing it right this
instant. I don't see you getting up and
preparing for your first jog just yet."

His gaze burned intensely into hers, but she didn't back
down. "But this is so much more fun
than jogging, wouldn't you say?" she asked, voice husky and face close enough
to distract him. She slipped her hands
out of his. Gently, her fingers began
to trace the expanse of his chest, the flesh being exposed inch by inch as she
progressed along the trail. "Isn't it?"

Now, the Goblin King had never been jogging a day in his
life, but he knew in no way could it rival this, even if the whole experience
was an excruciating pleasure. Painful
because, despite his body's impulses, his mind—and heart—knew he should resist.

"Sarah," he whispered, closing his eyes, trying to shut
her out, but only finding each sensation all the more pronounced. Like a blind man, his other senses came to
life to compensate for the loss.

"Jareth," she replied, her hands now reaching for his,
moving them up to her own chest so that he was cupping her through the bra.

And in that instant he was lost. He rolled them across the bed so he came out on top, resting
between Sarah's legs, and encircled by her arms. One of her hands rested on the back of his neck, and the other
atop his shoulder. Her ankles hooked
around his calves, keeping him pinned against her even if he had wanted to
escape.

His mouth sought out hers for their first real kiss. Tentative at first, then more insistent,
lips pressing firmly, tongue seeking entrance, which was gladly granted. After a thorough, though not entirely
complete examination, they pulled apart.

Breath ragged, he whispered into the chestnut cascade of
her hair, "Four long years."

He could almost feel the smile with which she answered,
her own voice as subtle as a spring breeze.
"An eternity."

He released a sigh of contentment before returning his
attention to exploring her with his mouth.
Nibbling her ear, tracing a path down her throat, one hand caressing her
thigh, the other, a breast.

Suddenly, a foreboding sense of awareness made him pause
in his efforts. Sarah's breathing was
too calm, too even, not at all indicative of a woman in the throes of a
passionate embrace. Slowly, hesitantly,
Jareth lifted his head to gaze upon his love's face. Just as he suspected. She
had fallen asleep. Well, rather, passed
out cold, the alcohol in her system no doubt having caught up to her. But it seemed wrong to attribute the
peaceful expression that claimed her face to a drunken stupor.

A desperate laugh escaped his lips as he buried his face
momentarily against her throat. His
precious Sarah had gotten the better of him once again.

After a while, he lifted himself up, shaking his head in a
mixture of amusement and exasperation.
A mild struggle, and he managed to disentangle himself from Sarah's
arms, letting them slip down, one hand falling to the bed at her side, and the
other curled against her chest, just above her heart. Her lips were parted slightly, her head turned minutely to one
side, and her hair a pool of chocolate beneath her. Even scantily clad in the little bits of ebony lace, she managed
to pull off an air of innocence and purity.

The Goblin King sighed slightly, staring down at the prone
figure and seeing what had almost been, the wish that had been minutes away
from fulfillment.

Suddenly, he grinned, and had the sleeping girl had been
awake to see it, its predatory nature might have caused her some alarm. If nothing else, he knew now that she had
not forgotten him—even after all this time—just as he had not forgotten her. And the four years that had passed between
them had brought a great deal of change and awareness. Little Sarah had indeed grown up.

And he had far from been forgotten.

Slowly, reluctantly, he dragged himself off the bed,
pulling up a blanket to cover Sarah's sleeping form. It wouldn't do to leave her like that, uncovered, exposed, and
vulnerable while he wasn't there.
Placing the blanket up to her chin, he reached out with the back of his
hand for one final touch, stroking her soft cheek. Like an angel in her sleep, though he knew better now.

Just as he was about to whisk himself back to his cold
castle and his unruly brood of goblins, Jareth paused, his attention
diverted. He reached across the bed and
picked up the forgotten piece of paper, smoothing it out once more to
read: "Three, seduce Jareth."

A triumphant smirk appeared on his face, and he took the
sheet, folding it neatly, placing it in his pocket. Evidence. Trophy. A promise to which to hold her. It hardly mattered. All he knew was that he had 364 days during
which to see Sarah's resolution fulfilled.
He just needed one during which she was sober.

The Goblin King spared one last glance at the girl resting
peacefully on the bed, and a fond smile found its way to his lips. A year of possibilities.

Fini

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